using for various bits of minor magic. Books, quite a few of them. Some items that were clearly personal. Something not unlike a mirror, except it seemed to be made of black glass. Some of that stayed in the trunk, and some got stowed in various drawers and on shelves about the vardo.
“Well now,” Rosamund said cheerfully, when she had finished. “Linens and curtains, a featherbed and a few nice comforts, I think. I’ll be back—”
A tap on the side of the vardo interrupted them. They both turned to see Captain Cody standing there. “If yer goin’ to come along with us, you might as well be of some use in the show,” he said, sounding just a little bit cross. “Poor Ellie hasta move like a cat with her tail on fire t’change after th’ Quadrille. You kin take her place as a Injun gal. Ellie, give her yer costume an’ show her.” He started to move off, then came back. “An’ I ain’t payin’ ye,” he added, then truly left.
“Well,” Rosamund said, both eyebrows shooting toward her hairline. “Is he always that . . .”
Giselle shrugged. “It is his show,” she pointed out. “And you did just attach yourself to it without asking leave.”
“So I did.” Rosamund gazed at the empty doorway. “Well. I’ll do it. But only after I make myself perfectly comfortable.”
She leapt down out of the front of the vardo where the door was, tied her horse to the side of the wagon, and climbed up into the cart, chirping to the horse and slapping the reins on his back.
Giselle smiled to herself. Things were beginning to look . . . very interesting. In Hunt Master Rosamund von Schwarzwald, Captain Cody might just have met his match.
9
“WELCOME to my new home,” said Rosamund, as Giselle settled onto a fat cushion on the floor and accepted a cup of tea. “What do you think?”
“I really like it,” Giselle confessed. Rosamund had opted to get someone to come attach fold-down seats to the inside of her vardo, with permanently attached cushions. For the rest, she had added curtains in the expected earthy colors, and a lot of leather straps to hold things into their shelves. Even the bedding was in earthy colors. It didn’t look like the sort of décor most people would think of as “feminine,” but it certainly seemed to suit Rosamund.
“Fewer things to tip over. I am not an expert at driving,” Rosamund confessed. “But that is not why I invited you here. I expect there is a lot you want to ask me about.”
Giselle was silent for a moment. “What exactly do you do?” she asked, deciding that this pretty much summed up all of her questions. “Mother was not in the Brotherhood as such, and the visitors we got never told me very much about it.”
“Ah . . . now that . . . is a good question.” Rosamund settled back on her cushion, as a light breeze stirred the curtains covering the open door and the curtains closing off her bed from the rest of the wagon. “The Brotherhood mostly kills things, quite simply,” she said, without any hesitation at all. “Bad things, of course. I’ve disposed of vampir, werewolves—and a werebear. A witch or two. Several Elemental Magicians that had gone to the bad. I’ve sent many sorts of spirits on their way, which I suppose is not technically killing things, since they were already dead.”
“What are vampir?” Giselle asked. “Mother never mentioned them.”
“She likely wouldn’t have encountered any, they prefer to lurk in ruins. They live on the blood of living creatures. I have been told that there are some who do not kill their victims, and who actually live on the blood of animals rather than humans but . . .” Rosamund shrugged. “I have never seen any. All the vampir I killed were murderers, and the only things ‘living’ that they left behind were unfortunates who they turned into others of their kind.” She gestured at the shelves. “I have a book, I’ll loan it to you.”
“That . . . would be useful,” Giselle replied. “Have you dispatched more things than that?”
“Some bad trolls. Other things that one might think were only in fairy stories. I’ve done so alone, and with help. I know how to recognize most Elemental creatures on sight, and how to combat them if need be. Yes, I am an Earth Master, and yes, most Earth Masters are healers, like Tante Gretchen, but